


That Charming Bastard

by Cinna_moon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Potter, First Time, Fred Weasley Lives, Letters, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Pureblood Education, Random Socks Disappearances, Slytherins Being Slytherins, Snark, Supportive Ginny Weasley, Wooing Harry Potter, silly pranks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinna_moon/pseuds/Cinna_moon
Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless idea, born out of desperate times and all that. And it was definitely supposed to be just a one-time thing, appear with an ex-Death Eater in public to get the press off his back. Harry shouldn't want to meet with Lucius Malfoy the second time. Nor the third. It's not like he finds talking to the arrogant Pureblood enjoyable, for Merlin's sake.But then, maybe it's because Lucius has plans of his own.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy & Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 21
Kudos: 115





	1. Our Saviour Dating Granger?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainbowemperor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowemperor/gifts).



> Happy birthday Ryo!! At last the story is here, bet you already forgot about it xD (I know I did). I wish you the happiest of birthday, hopefully in the company of your Chaotic family! ♥ Enjoy your day and commit arson (I had to think of an equivalent to "do crimes" to stay respectful xDD ). I love you! 
> 
> Thanks to Robin who helps me beta this story, I really appreciate it!

"I really hate you, 'Mione," he said, fidgeting with the hem of his necktie, already feeling uncomfortable, despite having the robes on for barely ten minutes. 

"Yes, Harry, you've said so _several_ times," his best friend replied, rearranging her hair in front of the mirror for the last time. "But you know how this gala is important for-"

"I know, I know," Harry interrupted her, for it was his idea to fund the Little Marauders Elementary, an orphanage and primary school for magical children. However, he didn't want any gala or people fawning over his scar, thank you very much. But sometimes, it was not in his power to get out of these things. They needed promotion.

"Well, then stop whining," she chastised him. "Now, can we go?"

He sighed, rather loudly for an effect. He envied Ron, who said he'd work late only so he didn't have to go with them. "Yeah." He offered her his arm, and together they Dissaparated.

◆◇

Having spent an hour socializing with people he had never seen in his life, drinking far too bubbly champagne and hating his too formal robes, he could say the evening wasn't as bad as he had been dreading. 

"Does Saint Potter still not have enough fame yet?" 

No, it was much, much worse. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of him, a glass of wine in his hand as if he had been born holding it, well-fitting blue robes complimenting his eyes and even his posture was far better than Harry's. All in all, he looked like he fit into his surroundings better than Harry could ever hope for himself. 

"Then why are you here? If not for _my fame_ , hm?" 

Malfoy scowled. He casually took a sip from his glass and swept his gaze through the crowd of people. "As I'm sure you're aware of, Malfoys are one of your biggest sponsors. You should be glad I am here," he said petulantly, pushing his nose higher in the air. 

"Oh, sorry, Malfoy," Harry replied with a smirk of his own. "Had I known you'd been waiting for it, I would have welcomed you differently. There would be a red carpet, fanfares… What else? Ah yes, would it be okay if I had personally escorted you to the room and served you champagne?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Potter." Harry smirked at the irritated look on Malfoy's face. "And besides, do you really think you could impress a Slytherin with a red carpet?"

"Merlin, that's a Muggle saying, Malfoy."

"Ah, no wonders then."

"And no wonders you're still a prat."

"That's rich coming from you," Malfoy scoffed, his face turning into the already familiar mask of arrogance. Harry grinned at him, making Malfoy frown even more. "Are you purposefully being a bastard, Potter?"

"You should be honoured, _Draco_ ," he said mockingly, downing the contents of his glass in one go and putting the empty glass on the barstool he was leaning on. It didn't look as graceful as when Malfoy took a sip, but Harry gave zero damns about how it looked. He could feel journalists' prying eyes on him, and thanks to Malfoy, he was getting agitated. "I'm showing you my true self."

"You're so full of shit, Potter, I don't understand-"

"Tut-tut, Draco," came the scolding voice of Lucius Malfoy, who appeared from behind Harry's back and now stopped to stand next to his son. He put a hand on the shoulder of his younger copy and Harry thought if someone made a portrait of them now, in this exact position, they would frame it and hang it on their fireplace mantel. Two Malfoy aristocrats. 

"Don't be rude to Mr. Potter, Draco, we owe him our gratitude for being here tonight." Malfoy smiled mysteriously. 

"You are here, Mr. Malfoy, thanks to your money." Harry watched in satisfaction as the younger Malfoy’s eyes widened as he looked at his father. However, the Malfoy patriarch stayed calm, his face didn't even twitch. Pity. 

"Yes, I won't deny that. Money can get you to places, Mr. Potter."

Daringly, Harry said, "As can kindness," and he shrugged, enjoying the passive-aggressive challenge talking with Malfoys required. 

"Your tongue has become indeed as sharp as the Prophet's been writing about," the older man remarked. "Interesting."

Harry clenched his jaw, feeling the boiling anger at the mention of papers. Merlin, did he hate them, and did he hate that Skeeter. Ever since the defeat of Voldemort, they were following him like vultures, patronizing him, making a role model out of him, asking him to give speeches.... It was endless.

He just wanted to be left alone, but they didn't seem to understand the concept of 'privacy'. 

"Tell me, Potter, are you considering levelling up by dating… hmmm, perhaps, a Harpie Player for change?" Harry clenched his hands into fists at Draco’s words. He'd always known where to deliver a kick for it to hurt the most. 

After the war, Ginny wanted to get back together – and they had tried, but it proved to be pointless. Their relationship was strained by that point, and somewhat forced, and it felt as if they had been trying to recreate something that hadn’t been there in the first place. That was when Harry confessed; he had been thinking about dating men, a fantasy he had buried into a faraway corner of his mind during war. Ginny was taken aback at first but she got over it rather quickly and was very supportive. It was her who encouraged Harry to date and that's how he met Mark, a few years older rising star for Tutshill Tornados. After barely two weeks, it turned out he was only dating Harry in hopes that more famous teams would notice him by being seen with The Saviour of the Wizarding World. 

Pushing the memories of his failed relationship with Mark away, he gave as bad as he got. "And do you think you can manage dating on your own, or will your father have to assist you with that, too?" 

"Let's keep this civil, Draco," Lucius Malfoy gave a scolding look to his son and, "Mr, Potter," to Harry. With horror, Harry realized it worked on him. With icy kindness, the blond continued. "Not every pureblood tradition is bad, as you would know had you taken your time getting to educate yourself."

"I'd rather not, thank you." He was about to make his excuses and leave to find Hermione, when the older man gave him a cruel look and said, "Indeed, where would the world be, had our Saviour displayed interest in pureblood traditions?" he smiled insincerely. 

"Now, if you will excuse us, Mr. Potter. It was a pleasure to speak with you," he outstretched his hand and without thinking, Harry shook it. His ex-classmate gave him a barely polite nod and then they turned and started mingling with other people, stopping next to some old couple to shake hands with. 

Harry took another glass of champagne from the tray levitating a few feet from him and, frowning at this weird conversation, went to find Hermione. He found his friend engaged in a discussion with an older looking woman with dark hair tinted with grey and dressed in violet dress that oddly complimented her hair. When the woman left to join another group, Hermione leaned onto his side, and, offering his arm, they fled the bar in order to avoid reporters coming their way. Hermione asked him how he'd been socializing and he told her about his weirdly interesting conversation with Malfoys, not leaving his cheeky retorts, which she rolled her eyes at. 

They stayed for quite some time, talking with other sponsors, tutors, school governors and some Ministry people, successfully avoiding any gossip-hungry journalists eager to interview them. Both gained some useful contacts for the future, however, there wasn't any other conversation stimulating enough for Harry to enjoy. 

◆◇

"M'rnin'," Harry mumbled sleepily, reaching for a cup of freshly made coffee. 

"Morning," Ron replied from behind reading the Prophet with his mouth characteristically full. 

"Anything interesting?" Harry asked, motioning to the papers while taking a seat next to the redhead and reaching for toasts. He buttered some and put them on his plate before biting into the first one. 

Laying down the open papers in front of him, and, barely missing Harry's plate, Ron replied, "You bet. Front page." His voice sounded already angry and Harry sighed loudly, bracing himself. Here they went again. 

Moving his toast to his left hand, he reached for the papers with his right and watched Ron slump back in his seat and cross his arms over his chest. 

He scanned the front page quickly and cursed aloud, sending crumbs of toast flying onto the table. In the picture was he with, unsurprisingly, Hermione. She had her arm hooked over his forearm and she was captured looking at him from the side and breaking into laughter while Harry looked smug, with a smirk on his lips. It must have been when he was telling her about Malfoys. 

He read bits of the sentences, skipping the whole paragraphs. 

_Hot topic: Our Saviour on a public date with Hermione Granger?_

_...the aforementioned couple spotted at yesterday's evening gala cozily close together...._

_...Redhead finally replaced by The Boy Who Lived?..._

_...the couple looked dashing together..._

"Bloody fuck," Harry cursed and threw the papers back on the table. "I'm so sorry, Ron, I swear-" 

"Not mad at you, mate," Ron reassured him. "I'm just pissed off how they constantly overlook me and can't accept that _I am_ Miones' boyfriend!" 

Harry was relieved his friend didn't blame him, but on the other side he sympathized with him; he knew Ron hadn't yet fully accepted his worthiness. 

"Hermione's accepted you. That's what matters, mate." He tried to reassure him and patted him on the shoulder. Ron grumbled but seemed a little cheered by that. They ate their breakfast while talking about Quidditch statistics listed at the last pages of the Prophet. About half an hour later, Hermione came to the kitchen, hair unkempt and wearing Ron's old T-shirt and her pyjama pants. When she asked about the news, they told her and got angry for the second time – in Ron's case the third – and decided to cancel their subscription. 

"We shouldn't have resumed our subscription, in the first place."

"Yeah."

Hermione, from her seat next to Ron and opposite Harry, frowned and reached for the Prophet again. "Wait." She skimmed past it all and then threw it with disgust on the floor. "Harry," she looked at him, "there's nothing written about our school." 

"I hadn't noticed," Harry confessed, confused and irritated. "The only reason we arranged the gala was to gain publicity and spread the word and the only reason the journalists were there to write about it and not to make up this bullshit about us!" he growled. 

"What are we gonna do 'bout it, mate?" Ron asked him, looking ready to support his friend in anything if needed. 

Harry thought about it for a while; he had let these things go too far, avoiding the press so they would leave them alone, but that had resulted in them writing what they wanted about Harry and his friends. Maybe he should do the opposite now.

He grinned at his two best friends.

"We'll need the twins, and some parchment."


	2. The Boy Who Lived Goes Insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit short but I wanted to keep it separated from the next chapter.   
> Thanks to Robin for the amazing beta work! Any remaining mistakes are purely mine.

For the next four days, after the Prophet article, Harry kept correspondence with a certain blond aristocrat as well as wreaking havoc in the streets of the wizarding world.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_You may find it a bit ~~weird~~ unexpected that I have decided to contact you. I am quite surprised myself, and to be honest, all my friends think I've gone mad. _

_Anyway, I am writing to you because of something that you said last time we spoke. At the banquet a few nights ago, you mentioned something about the world ending if Harry Potter himself were to learn about pureblood traditions. Luna says the closest the world will get to an end will be in 2012 so I think it's safe to ask if you'd be interested in meeting me to talk about these pureblood traditions?_

_Cheers,_

_H. J. Potter._

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am indeed surprised to have received a letter from you. Excuse me for taking precautions, but regarding recent articles about your persona, how am I to know this isn't just another foolish 'prank' of yours born out of boredom?_

_Sincerely,_

_L. A. Malfoy_

Malfoy took his sweet time replying and unfortunately, by the time his reply came, the Prophet had informed the public of Harry’s recent activities. He had previously met with the twins, and they helped him figure out a plan, all too happy when Harry had given them a free hand and agreed to everything they said.

As a result, several articles were written about the latest exploits of Harry Potter. He, the twins and his two best friends along with Ginny were part of a plan including a polyjuice potion. One photo caught Ron heavily snogging Harry (which was actually Hermione) the other two photos, made at the same time as the first, caught one of the twins in Harry's body testing new products for the joke shop: Harry (George) accompanying a heavily pregnant Ginny to St. Mungos' – Ginny had a great laugh planning that – and another Harry (Fred, this time) changing into a zombie in the middle of Diagon Alley eating something suspiciously looking like someone's brain, only to vanish after a few bites. Harry himself, after making sure no camera could take a photo of anything inappropriate, pretended to drunkenly ride a broom through Hogsmeade. Naked.

The responses were glorious. The Prophet was outraged for being mocked, articles were being written about the well-being of their Saviour, and people on the street no longer wanted to over-enthusiastically shake his hand or touch his scar.

His friends wrote to him, demanding they be included in the next set of pranks, and he even received a letter from McGonagall subtly asking what he was doing. He sincerely replied he just wanted to get the public off his back and she wished him good luck and 'have fun Potter, you deserve it'. He had to admit it warmed his heart.

Lucius Malfoy was part of the 'higher' plan too. Harry thought being seen publicly with an ex-Death Eater would stop people throwing themselves at his feet, and finally leave him alone.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_I assure you you aren't part of any prank. You have my word as a Potter and a Gryffindor._

_I won't lie, Mr. Malfoy, I hope that after being seen with you, people will stop sending me 50 love letters a day. Speaking to your Slytherin side (well that's actually to the whole of you. Never mind.) you could benefit from our meeting, too. I believe it will help your reputation to be seen having a friendly chat with the Saviour. What do you say, Lucius?_

_H. J. Potter_

* * *

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_First of all, I don't recall giving you permission to call me by my first name._

_As for your offer, I accept. Only on the condition I am the one to choose a date and location._

_Sincerely,_

_L. A. Malfoy_

Harry was pleased. Malfoy agreed to meet him, owled him the apparation directions; now he only had to suffer a talk about purebloods and hopefully after that, the public would leave him alone.

"Mate, are you sure you want to do this?" Ron asked, concern colouring his voice. He was leaning casually against the door frame to Harry's room, nibbling on a biscuit.

"This is Malfoy you're gonna meet, not some harmless guy you meet in a pub. He tried to kill you, Harry."

"I know, Ron, but we will be in public, he wouldn't try to harm me in plain sight," he said reassuringly despite having some doubts himself. "You know something drastic has to be done, this all has become unbearable. I can't even go buy some toilet paper without the press speculating whether I have problems with my digestion."

Ron laughed shortly, stepping into the room and sprawling himself on Harry's bed. Harry zipped up his muggle pants - his best ones actually, but he ignored the fact for the sake of saying all his other ones we were waiting for being washed - and opened his sock drawer, looking for a pair of the same colour.

"You only have to suffer through it till you get photographed," Ron paused, "which shouldn't take long," he finished with a chuckle.

"Merlin!" Harry cursed. "Don't I have one single pair without a hole?" He searched the whole drawer and finally settled defeatedly on the pair with the smallest damage; sadly they didn't match. One was plain blue, and the other light grey with pictures of cute elephant heads wiggling their trunks.

He turned to Ron, smoothed his black and white checkered button-down and ran his fingers nervously through his hair.

Motioning over his body, he asked, "Does it look OK?"

"Mate, you know I know bugger all about fashion."

"Yeah but it doesn't look weird you think?" Ron just sent him a blank look, so Harry rolled his eyes at him. "This will have to do, then."

He left his bedroom, Ron hotly on his heels. He grabbed a coat, put on his sneakers and hid his wand in a sleeve. After a quick good-bye he Disapparated, the last thing he heard from Ron being something along the lines of "this is so bloody weird."


End file.
